


Uber It

by thesmuttypirate



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Uber AU, klance, sometimes i scream when i write so i can release the tension, theres a brief mustache twiddling in here!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 11:07:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9892796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesmuttypirate/pseuds/thesmuttypirate
Summary: Keith is an uber driver and Lance drinks





	

**Author's Note:**

> its an uber au idea that my friend gave me and i like writing tiny plotless fics thanks i dont know where this was supposed to go. It rly sucks and I just need more practice my dudes and i could write more than a ficlet  
> also i dont know anything about uber i only use it when im already wasted

Lance shifted in the stool, groaning into his arms. Once again, he was folded into his usual seat at his usual bar, getting his usual drink in the usual ungodly amount. His friends had long since left, and he understood. Hunk had to open at the restaurant tomorrow (or today, technically), while Pidge was pulling all nighters for the horrendous yet admirable amount of classes they were taking. Not binge drinking like Lance was.

Honestly, he had a problem.

The bartender pushed a glass of water towards him: as per usual. 

“Thanks Coran.” He slurred, doing a half assed salute to his usual bartender. “You're.. Th’ bes’ you know?”

Coran smiled amicably, twiddling his beautiful orange mustache thoughtfully. “I do suppose I am, sir, thank you! Do you have your uber coming again?”

Lance downed half the glass of water, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “I’m gon’ ask...now…”

And as per usual, Coran the Beautiful Man patted his shoulder in a friendly motion as Lance pulled his phone out. He crossed his fingers, hoping his usual driver was in his usual spot. 

With his whole heart, he thanked every star in the sky that Keith’s name popped up immediately.

He paid his tab, giving Coran an over the top goodbye that was even funnier because of his drunk stumbling, and made his way outside The Altean. Giving one last look to the neon blue and pink sign, Lance stepped off the porch area, already spotting the usual pretty red sports car he knew by heart.

The front passenger window rolled down, revealing Keith and his soft smile. Lance felt his cheeks pool with heat.

He barely stumbled with the handle, but the embarrassment didn't matter when he heard a small laugh slip from the driver. It was like music to his ears. 

“Welcome aboard, Lance.” he snorted, one elbow leaned casually on the back of his seat. As per usual. “How many numbers did you get tonight?”

Lance snorted-- good lord-- while buckling. “Does it ma’er if I... still haven' gotten yours, mulle’ man?”

His next reward was the bright blush splash across Keith’s face. Which he was used to, being as obnoxiously flirty as he was and knowing how much more shy Keith was. It used to be a running joke between them, about how many numbers Lance got on bar nights, and how many of them were the loser hotline of course. 

But lately, Lance wasn't quite interested.

Instead of seeing some pretty girl in his arms, he's been seeing a pretty boy with a disgustingly attractive mullet.

“You never asked for it.” Keith mumbled.

Lance did a double take, not quite sure if he heard him right. His head was doing weird things.  _ Too _ many shots of tequila and definitely not enough water. His vision swam, but he slung his arm over the back of his seat, shifting to face him.

This might not be a good idea, given the circumstance, be he had just enough courage to try.

“Ay papiiiii…..” The word dragged out, thick with alcohol. “Can I get your num’r?” Lance was pretty sure even drunk his smirk was killer. The wink was overplayed, but he thought he managed to pull it off as he leaned closer.

Given the look on Keith’s face, maybe he did.

The driver's eyes were wide and even in the sparse light his blush was prominent. 

Lance swallowed thickly.

“ _Si besarte fuera pecado, caminaría feliz por el infierno._ ” He enunciated each word carefully, trying to talk around the alcohol still swimming in his system.

There was a heavy beat of silence as they made eye contact. Lance bit his lip, suddenly worried he went too far. Keith's gaze dropped to it, and in the next instant, Lance had pressed his mouth to his.

The kiss was rushed and awkward, too much force and not enough room in the stupid tiny car. The kiss broke, and Lance was instantly cold without it. He felt a gloved hand cup his cheek and they were kissing again, a little softer, a little sweeter, a little slower.

“You taste like tequila.”

Another small kiss.

“I had … eight sho’s o’ it maybe…?”

He felt Keith smile against his mouth.

“You're a mess.”

“An’ you're cute.”

Lance melted when Keith pressed his lips to his forehead, chuckling. His heart was thudding in his chest.

“So are you. And still pretty drunk.” Another soft chuckle- a sound Lance found himself quickly becoming infatuated with- and he leaned back in his seat. “We should get you home.”

Lance sighed dramatically, pouting and putting on his seatbelt. It took him a few tries, but he finally got it, and when it clicked he gave Keith a very expectant look.

“As for the number… You can ask me again when you're sober.”


End file.
